Our Last Dance
by rosedawsoncalvert
Summary: Still reeling from Matthew's death, Mary is delivered another blow. Her father had an illegitimate child. Jane Moorsum is now laying claim to Downtown. To make matters worse Edith and Mary's already sour relationship has become toxic. Matthew is finding it hard to go to the other side. Will Mary meet Matthew once again, on the grand floors of Downtown Abbey, for one last dance?
1. Sorrow

Our Last Dance

I brushed aside the canopy of George's crib and gingerly placed him into his cot. I kissed his forehead, and enveloped him with a yellow wool blanket that Mrs. Hughes had crocheted diligently for him each night of my pregnancy. I remember she would carry on about the progress she was making anytime I complained to her about my swollen feet and indigestion. She would say with a pointed smile, _just imagine the wee little one, tucked in with this beautiful blanket_. Of course, Mrs. Hughes had used neutral yellows and greens for the wool as she hadn't dared to speculate the gender of Matthew's and my child.

As soon as I had laid George's head on his lace pillow, every ounce of energy was expelled from my body. I barely was able to teeter over to the chair where I would feed George, sluggishly falling into it. I was shifting in my seat as a squeak emerged from the chair. I reached beneath my velvet robe, pulling out a toy duck that would accompany George's bath time. Ducks…water…the sea…sea monster…Matthew. My thoughts somehow always trailed back to him. Then his sea blue eyes flashed in my head for a moment and my heart sank into the abyss it left. Maybe it served me right, to be so unhappy. I felt as though I was being punished for leaving Matthew hanging the first time he had proposed to me. Now he had left me hanging, indefinitely. I reached over to the side table where a platter of food had been set by Anna in case I suddenly started to find food appetizing again. I commended her determination but found that notion entirely inconceivable. Nevertheless, I knew that if I lost my strength, George would suffer, so I unwillingly bit into a strawberry and swallowed it, hardly taking in any of the taste. Suddenly, I was reminded of the day Matthew and I ate strawberries together, after he had carried Sybil back from the rally. Sybil was gone, and now, so was Matthew. I closed my eyes, drowsy and tired from the memories that were constantly pouring over me.

I awoke with a start, realizing that I had been sleeping in an uncomfortably hard rocking chair for several hours. It was almost midnight and I could feel unsolicited tears start to well up in my eyes. Realization dawned on me…Matthew was dead. I hugged myself tightly and began to tremble. He had died in a car accident, merely four days ago, on the day that George was born. The day I thought would be the happiest day of our life would be forever tainted.

The last four days had been utter hell, and the weekend was almost upon me. Come to think of it, I hadn't even known what a weekend was before Matthew had educated me on the matter. An example of the things Matthew had brought into my life. I peered into the cot where George was sleeping silently. He was the most significant reminder of Matthew's impact on my life. It was Matthew who had given me the child that I had sought so desperately for so long. It was Matthew that had abolished all my dilemmas concerning the entail, lock, stock, and barrel by taking me as his wife. I owed so much to him, yet would never be able to fully thank him or give him the love he so deserved.

I took a deep breath thinking of our last discourse, wondering if I had been typically cold and brash in my choice of language. I hope he hadn't been slighted in any way by the grief I'd given him for not being there when George was born. I could feel the tempo of my heart increasing by degrees. I came to an absolute conclusion at that moment. I had been too demanding and had expected too much from him; his dying had been the outcome of my selfishness.

I tied the velvet belt of my housecoat in a loose knot and headed downstairs to where the gramophone was ensconced. I stood by the contraption, thinking profoundly about the dance that Mathew and I had shared that night that he had first kissed me so profoundly without any restraint. That was the precise moment I knew I loved him. I smiled as tears prickled in my eyes.

I picked up a record, and blew away a fine layer of dust that had settled on the vinyl. I placed the record onto the gramophone, placing the stylus gently onto it. The music of zip goes a million filled the entire room. I hugged my shoulders remembering how naturally it felt to be dancing hand in hand with him. I mouthed the lyrics of the song, "look for the silver lining." My heart sunk, remembering that there was no silver lining for George and me.


	2. Belief

**Chapter Two**

Rain was pelting down hard on the window pane, when I awoke with a stir. My sleep induced oblivion quickly dissipated and I felt a pang in my stomach as my morning ritual of remembering that I had been widowed began. I clambered out of my four poster bed and was shocked and cross at first to see that Edith had fallen asleep on the chaise lounge by my window. My anger was replaced with curiosity.

"What on earth are you doing in my room?" I announced loudly, hoping to alarm the servants outside.

Edith nimbly rose from the chaise lounge and began rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "I came to look in on you of course Mary. We may have had our differences in the past but I'm not heartless!" She replied wearily.

"Oh, well…" I replied overcome with a loss of words, "Thank-you." I finally managed to sputter out.

"So…should I ring down for one tray or two?" Edith inquired cocking her left eyebrow as she often was in habit to do.

I paused, taking a moment to think Edith's question over. _To hell with it_, I thought. "Two… and ask for marmalade!" I stated, surprised to hear myself requesting food.

Edith rang down and then joined me on my bed. As we waited for our trays she began recounting the going-on of last night's dinner party.

"Let's see…Vivian Booth came and looked like she'd aged a decade since I last saw her. Oh and Lord Trask and his sister both attended. They are also boarding at Downtown as grandmother extended them an invitation since he's in Yorkshire on business. I rather like Lord Trask." Edith gushed, the pallor of her skin flushing before she starting gossiping again.

"It was a riot really, a real shame you didn't join us sissy." Edith sulked as she bit into a piece of buttered toast and drained back her first cup of tea of the day. "Rose can really throw an excellent party. I have no clue where she gets it's from really, certainly not her boring and dull mother!" She said with a speck of venom in her voice.

"Are you quite finished?" I said with irritation as I took a fulfilling bite of my soft boiled egg.

"Well no, but if you're otherwise engaged." Edith remarked, suddenly gasping and cupping her hand over her mouth.

I stood up angrily as tears brimmed my eyes. Edith gave me a once over as her eyes widened with regret.

"Oh, I'm so sorry…" She started apologizing, but was cut of by my very angry words.

"No, I'm actually widowed." I shouted spitefully, overcome with frustration. At this point for full effect I stormed out my room.

"No, Mary wait…" Edith pleaded, her voice trailing off as I set off down the corridor.

I headed towards George's nursery, threading through several servants I encountered along the way. The only face that could bring me any relief now was George's, for he had his father's calming blue eyes and I was longing for Matthew.

It was almost four o'clock and mother had just given me a lecture about neglecting my familial duties. I was instructed that being confined to my room for all meals in the day would only be tolerated for a short time and that the whole family was grieving Matthew's untimely demise. In the meantime, I would have to make at least one appearance and I chose tea time as this was the most informal gathering of the day. Anna had just buttoned up one of my black high collar dresses and secured my hair into a swirl.

"Keep your chin up Lady Mary!" Anna chirped, giving me a sympathetic smile.

I forced a smile and could see that Anna had tears in her eyes.

"It's alright Anna. I'll be fine. Thank you for everything." I said trying to hide my sorrow from my sensitive head maid.

When Anna had left, I reached for my perfume but stopped abruptly thinking about how Matthew would always kiss the pulse points on my body. I closed my eyes and tried to remember how his kisses had felt.

"Oh God…why me…why us!" I cried out, with my head in my hands.

After a few moments of sobbing I gathered myself and then made my way downstairs to the morning room. The room grew silent as I entered and the conversation seemed to immediately die out. Mother, Edith and Grandmother, all with stone faces, looked up at me.

"Come dear, sit beside me. You poor poor thing." Grandma finally said breaking the deafening silence. "Here, have a scone my love." She added, placing a warm Devon scone onto my saucer.

"And a dollap of cream…" Grandmother added. "Do we have any cream…Carson?" Grandmother said panicking and turning her head frantically looking for Carson.

"It's alright. No need to bother Carson. I'll just have tea." I spat out, angry at everyone's ridiculous behavior.

Just then Rose walked into the room looking rather disheveled. She stretched her hand above her head and let out a gaping yawn.

"Oh cousin Mary, we missed you so last night. Didn't we have a riot, Edith? I wish you'd come." Rose sulked. "Lord Trask is dying to meet you!"

"Sorry, I was tired." I responded with a pointed smile.

An awkward silence followed until Edith finally broke it.

"Lord Trask is going to join us for dinner tonight. You will join us right. You wouldn't want him to think you were rude." Edith questioned, her eyes searching mine for an answer.

"As a matter of fact, I don't care what Lord Trask thinks of me and I plan on having a tray sent up and spending the evening with George." I stated abruptly.

"Mother, you can't let her get away with…" Edith rudely started saying before she was cut of by grandmother.

"Girls, I won't have you acting so uncivilly, please have some decorum." Grandmother said squirming in her chair and glowering at Edith.

"I think I'd better check on George." I said standing up to leave.

"I'll come with you darling." My mother said finally breaking her silence. "I'm dying to see my beautiful grandchild."

At this Edith face flushed and she became livid. She rose from the table.

"You all make me sick." She said, throwing down her napkin and rushing out of the room before I could. I realized that her anger was stemming from the fact that her daughter was being raised by strangers and I was raising George. Edith had always been envious of me my whole life, and this was just another reason for her to hate me.


	3. Hope

**Chapter Three**

I shuffled the roasted potatoes about on my plate and flattened a few peas with my fork. I wasn't nearly hungry enough to have had a tray sent up, but Anna had brought one up for me nevertheless. I gritted my teeth, slamming down the cutlery on the tray and draining back the dregs of my wine.

My thoughts trailed back to the dance that Matthew and I had shared at Christmastime. That was the dance that had been a game changer for me. Matthew had proposed to me after that. I decided to go down to the music room and listen to our song.

I placed the record in the gramophone and music immediately filled the room.

"What about it." A smooth voice uttered from behind me. I whipped back my head, as my heart fell from my chest.

"Matthew!" I exclaimed, quickly finding myself burying my head in his chest.

"There there love. The worst is over now. It's going to be all up hill from here for you and George." Matthew assured me, placing his hands on my shoulders and gently curling his fingers along my shoulder blade.

My eyes studied his face. His hair was neatly parted at the right and he was adorned with a tuxedo. He looked so smart. I suddenly realized his visage was free from blemish; he didn't have one laceration or scratch on his body. This befuddled me because we had been forced to have a closed casket at the funeral because of the extent of Matthew's injuries.

"Are you really back? Please, tell me this is not a dream!" I pleaded with my husband, pressing my hands over his chest to confirm his existence.

"Not a dream, a promise I made with… well with someone up there." Matthew said gesturing upward, his lips twitching with pride. "I had to see you again. I couldn't let things end this way."

I folded myself into his arms, intoxicated by his familiar scent of peppermint and musk. He smoothed my hair. At this, I began to cry uncontrollably.

"I'm so sorry love, this was not how I'd intended for things to go. All I wanted was to be a good husband to you, and to take care of you. Truth be told, I think I knew I loved you the moment I first saw you, when you mounted that horse… I knew I was yours. You've held my heart captive since that day. If it weren't for you Mary, I wouldn't have stayed at Downton a moment more. I would have laughed in your father's face and walked away, but it's you who kept me here, it's you who held my curiosity." "Mary," Matthew began speaking after a pause, leveling his eyes with mine, "Don't grieve too hard or for too long love."

"I'll try darling." I replied worriedly, turning toward the gramophone to change the record. I could feel his breath on my neck, and this brought a smile to my lips. I turned around to plant a kiss on his cheek but realized he was no longer there. However I wasn't, to my chagrin, alone in the room.

"Are you alright? You look pale like you've just seen a ghost." A tall, lean man of about nine and twenty said with a bewildered look on his face. The man was well dressed and donned a well defined jaw line and charming smile.

"I'm fine." I finally manager to sputter out as my eyes ranged about the room looking for some sign that Matthew was still here.

"Have you misplaced something?" The stranger questioned, his green eyes squinting curiously as he looked about the room for my misplaced possession.

"No, no, I just haven't been in this room for sometime and the furniture has been changed." I replied, relieved that I had been able to come up with an excuse for my odd behaviour.

"I see. By the way, I'm Jonathan Trask." He said extending out his hand and pumping my hand three times. "I'm actually staying at your home for a few days. You're grandmother opened your home to me and my sister Vivian." Trask articulated to me leaning one of his hands on a side table and flashing me and irresistible smile. Lord Trask began rifling through the record collection, finally finding a suitable record. He placed the stylus on it, pensively listening to the melody. After a moment, he stood up to his full height and adjusted his bow. I was shocked at how tall and handsome this man standing before me was. And according to Edith he was not only handsome and well to do but he was a lord. I took a deep breath.

"Forgive me, Lord Trask. I'm feeling a bit ill. I think I'll head upstairs." I managed to spit out, as I started off down the room.

"Anything I can do to assist you?" Lord Trask inquired, taking wide and nimble strides to catch up with me.

"No. Have a good evening Lord Trask." I said declining his offer weakly.

"You as well Lady Mary," Lord Trask said, nodding his head respectfully and surprising me by lifting my hand up to his lips to kiss it. "Sleep well."


	4. Endurance

**A/N: My story is based in an alternate universe (AU). Sybil lives and Lord Grantham's affair with Jane Moorsum produces a son who will now vie for Downtown. **

Papa was donning a double breasted suit as he breezed into the room and sat down at the head of the table as he did every morning without failure. He flipped open the newspaper.

"Remember, remember the fifth of November!" He chanted with a somber countenance. He lifted up his napkin and neatly placed it on his lap.

"You all are aware it's the fifth?" He added skeptically.

"Yes father we all know. It's Guy Fawkes' day. Today we set an effigy on fire and cheer while it burns to the ground because Fawkes' plan to destroy parliament was thwarted." Edith said nonchalantly.

I laughed at Edith's explanation. "I suppose not everyone shares father's enthusiasm for burning things." I found myself adding to the conversation.

"Nonsense, who doesn't absolutely love burning things?" Father remarked as he devoured a heaping spoonful of porridge. "And where's your Mother? Today is her absolute favourite day. And proof that traitors always get their comeuppance!"

Never staying on one subject for more then a few minutes my father began to scrutinize us. He looked at me first, and then Edith and finally his eyes rested on Sybil.

"What are you up to these days Sybil?" My father inquired to his youngest and possibly his favorite daughter.

"I'm happy you asked, because well I was hoping for your permission to allow Edith to instruct me on learning how to drive the automobile." Sybil asked sweetly.

My father sighed. "I am so proud of you Sybil. You, daughter of mine, are a truly brave and courageous one. But of course, my answer is no." Lord Grantham said icily, giving Sybil a stern look.

"What? But Father, Edith didn't even have any instruction and she managed to drive the automobile perfectly well." Sybil riposted defensively.

"Yes father, I am a competent driver and I am confident my sister will share my penchant for driving." Edith chimed in giving my father an equally stern look.

"No. Absolutely not. Open your eyes. Look what happened to our Matthew." My father retorted, shutting his newspapers and shoving it to the side.

Frustrated at the cut and thrust of the conversation, I broke my silence and spoke up in my youngest sister's defense.

"Just because Matthew has had a bad accident doesn't mean Sybil will share the same fate." I managed to let out shakily, my emotions running high. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a smile forming on both Edith and Sybil's face.

Realization dawned on my father's face and biting his tongue, he swiftly he began to apologize. "I'm so sorry love. You are right. I was out of line bringing Matthew into this conversation. Please forgive my impropriety. Matthew paid a heavy price for the accident and I have no right to use his tragedy for my personal advantage."

As my father carried on talking about Matthew, my thoughts were taken back to mine and Matthew's wedding day. I could now feel the softness of my lace dress on my skin. I recalled the clear sky and droves of people that had watched me step out of my carriage and walk into the church were Matthew stood waiting for me at the alter. To think we'd fought over money the eve of our wedding day made my heart heavy.

The funeral had been a stark contrast to the brightest day of my life. That miserable day, I had been running on less than just a few moments of sleep…sleep that I had obliviously lapsed into from sheer exhaustion. No one ever tells you how tiresome grieving is for the surviving members. The only little grief I'd ever felt in my short life derived from losing a first cousin whom I had been betrothed to. In all honestly, his death had relieved me from such an obligation and I can't even be certain then that I had felt real grief.

I realized that my stiff upper lip was no use to me now and that Matthew's death would beckon feelings from me that I had never expressed outwardly before and had left me at the mercy of my disposition. The rest of the time spent in ebbs and flows of throwing angry fits at anyone who tried to comfort me and sitting placidly recalling happier days with my husband.

The first few days, however, had felt like one long drawn out nightmare that I couldn't wake up from; akin to riding a treacherous rollercoaster consisting of twisting turns, peaks and troughs that sent me reeling in different directions and threw me into a whirlwind of panic and displacement. The spit and hiss of the fire, too loud; any picture or belonging of Matthew's a trigger that would unleash hours of misery ridden fits of sobbing. Most direly, the memory of the iron sky that hung above us burned indelible into my mind; my father - looking defeated as Matthew's casket was lowered into the ground.

I can't believe that I had worn a black dress…that I had attended the funeral… that I had buried my husband. I felt as though it was an act of betrayal on my part; that I had allowed these events to come to pass. But of course I knew I had no real control over the situation anymore and neither did Matthew.

I remember nursing George or talking a walk or even bathing was considered a small victory for me as it daily felt as though a black hole lay fixed above me, drawing the will to live from out of me. I only realized later on that my spells of anger had been so displaced during those initial days and that the shell shock and exhaustion would eventually wear off.

"Well father?" Sybil's sweet voice said drawing me out my trance.

After a moment of contemplation, my father recoiled. "I hope you know what you're doing Edith." My father shot back while not bothering to look up at either of his tenacious daughters. He resumed his perusal of the headlines and it was as if the conversation had never taken place.

As I was getting ready to make my excuses to leave, Mother and Rose sauntered in, both smiling ear to ear like they were sharing a secret.

"Everything is ready for the bonfire tonight." Rose chirped, her cheeks flaring with excitement, her blond tendrils bobbing up and down on her shoulders.


End file.
